Whatever oneshots •Boyf riends•

Sunsets and hills [Fluff]

Minor book spoiler, if you've read the book then you'd understand it.
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For sixteen years, Michael Mell would sit himself down on a hill to watch the sunset. Not to do anything. But to sit and stare, it was his favourite spot in the whole world. A little lonely, sure, but still extraordinary for him.

He'd sit on the hill full of flowers of every colour, and stare out to his hometown underneath him, feeling free like a bird. He was always accompanied by the beautiful sounds of the music of the world. Recognising the underrated sounds as his true friends.

The sound of the wind sung around him in a whispering melody, invisible against the painted sky. Whatever the sky felt like looking, it illuminated on the grass and flowers, splashing against it with its colours. Michael really appreciate the world around him, and wished more people would too. Many he'd have more friends.

Michaels fingers kneaded at the patchwork of green grass, varied by the shadows of passing clouds. The grass changes clothes with the seasons just like the fashion of students at Michaels school. In spring the grass is chad lightly in the softest greens, and they shine a light that promises Michael more warmth to come. By summer, the grass is wearing its thickest coat, deep rich greens that absorb the the intense rays and provide cool shelter to any creatures that pass. By fall, not only the grass, but the rest of the area, are filled with the colours of scarlets and golds. Leaves dance with the whispers of the wind, and tumble to the undergrowth, blanketing the ground with their brilliant hues and letting shafts of white penetrates that canopy once more. And once in winter, naked trees shiver in the bitter blasts. The wind more distressed and wailing no more whispers. The cold air offers no protection to anything, including themselves. The grass is nothing but thick snow, but because of that the hill is still beautiful. Then, as the seasons change, the snow rolls away from Michael in wintry grandeur, patiently waiting for the return of spring.

The area was the most beautiful thing Michael had ever seen.

Rumours around town told tales about a new family in the area, nothing big, but it was a somewhat popular man from a divorce company "Heere and Heere, I should've kept my maiden name, Theyer" who - coincidently - moved here to get away and move on from a divorce with his son.

Michael didn't think much, but kids found humour in the last names of the family. Sure, Heere would make some good jokes. But Michael wouldn't do that to a kid he didn't know.

That is, until one day.
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Michael isn't just accompanied by the sounds of the word, he is also accompanied by some music from his big white headphones. Michael hummed to his music, bopping his head side to side as he looked down to the world underneath him.

Michael flinched when he heard a doorstep against the grass, and the sudden vibration of the ground. He frantically fiddled with the pause button and snapped his head back.

'Ack!' A boy jumped and tripped on his feet, eventually falling to his butt and squealing. Panicking.

'S-Sorry! Oh my god, I d-didn't- I'm-' the boy let out a song of starters and stood up, flailing his hands frantically.

Michael started, getting a good luck at the boy.

His hair was waves of pure earth, softly reflecting the light of the sun; each strand moving freely in an ocean of born breeze, a compliment to his ocean blue eyes. Eyes of rivers water, in glossy serenity. Though, they were small with panic. He wore a white shirt with pink flowers splashed on its centre, a similar pink that painted his converse. And his bracelets, blue bracelets too. That joined the colour of the boys jeans. His face was very extraordinary, and Michael felt magically drawn to those millions of freckles.